


The Ties That Bind

by fayth (zanarkand)



Series: Here's to the Fall [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftermath of Suicide Attempt, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fix-It, Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not Canon Compliant, References to Depression, Side Story, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-09-21 01:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17033568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanarkand/pseuds/fayth
Summary: Side scenes to accompany a few various chapters ofUnder Grey Skies.This will absolutely not make sense if you're not reading that fic, these do not work as stand-alones.





	1. Chapter 6: Gladio

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary states, these are a few side scenes that go along with _Under Grey Skies_. They're all scenes I was asked about in comments, but couldn't fit into the narrative from Noct's point of view. A couple were posted in the comments of Grey Skies, the others are new. I decided to post them all in their own fic for easier access.
> 
> At the moment I only have ~~four~~ six scenes (I'm a liar apparently). I can't say if there will be any more. If there's a scene you want to see, you're welcome to ask after it, but I make no promises that it will get written. It depends on if I'm interested enough, and if inspiration strikes. Although please don't ask about anything regarding Prompto and Gladio's relationship, I already know I won't write that :P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene is from Gladio's point of view, and accompanies chapter six. It is Gladio's discovery of Noct's suicide attempt.

Gladio scowls as he walks down the hall toward the room Noct has claimed, mild irritation rising in him when he sees that the light looks to be off. Has Noct fallen back asleep? He knows that Cor talked to him and appraised him of the situation earlier, and impressed upon him how serious and sensitive it is, so he oughta be awake and waiting on him. No matter how much Noct loves sleep, he's never been one to deliberately shirk from duty before.

But as much as Gladio hates to even think it, lately the kid's seemed... unwell. For ten years after Noct had disappeared into the Crystal, Gladio had felt lost. He'd been adrift, a Shield without his charge, believing that he'd completely failed to protect Noct. And their friendship as well, he'd missed it a lot, the absence of all their teasing banter and good-natured ribbing tearing at him. When Noct finally came back, Gladio felt like he'd been given a second chance. He could make up for failing him and they could just pick up right where they'd left off, only without all the hurt feelings and negative energy that had been between them in those final weeks since the aftermath of Altissia. 

But it hasn't been like that at all. Noct isn't the grief-stricken, desperate twenty-year old that went chasing after Ardyn in Gralea, or even the determined thirty-year old that hunted him down and ended him in Insomnia. He's quiet, quiet even for him, more than he'd ever been as a teenager, and he wanders around with dull, haunted eyes that seem to stare right through people half the time. Though aside from himself and Prompto and Iggy, and maybe Cor, Gladio doesn't think anyone's really noticed, given that Noct has taken to hiding away from everyone doing who knows what—and okay, maybe Noct would shirk from duty these days. 

"Noct?" Gladio says softly, knocking on the door. He's telling himself Noct has just fallen asleep, but he's concerned. There have been panic attacks, and Noct himself has admitted to struggling with the fact that he was in the Crystal for ten years. He _hasn't_ admitted to being depressed, but Gladio's pretty sure there's some of that going on again too. 

Noct doesn't respond to the knock, and a text goes unanswered as well. Gladio's concern grows, but it's still possible that Noct's sleeping deeply enough to not hear his phone. He hits the speed dial for Noct's number in his contact info, and it only takes seconds for the loud trill of Noct's ringtone to reach him out in the hall. Noct, however, doesn't answer it. 

Gladio ends the call after several rings and stands out in the hall for a moment, hand hovering over the doorknob in indecision. He doesn't want to invade Noct's privacy, but his worry is rising, and he can't shake the idea that something's wrong. That Noct's in there having a panic attack he can't get out of. And what kind of Shield would Gladio be if he just left him without even checking that Noct is okay? 

The thought's enough to spur him to wrap his fingers around the doorknob, twisting it and pushing. The door swings open slowly, and Gladio rubs at his neck uncertainly before stepping in. The lights are on after all, and Noct's laying in bed on his back. At first Gladio thinks he really is just asleep, but as he steps closer to the bed, he hears mumbling coming from Noct, too low to be comprehensible, and his eyes fall on the half-finished bottle of rum lying beside him. 

Gladio frowns, irritation swiftly replacing worry. Is the kid fucking _drunk_? He takes a deep breath, not wanting to let his temper get the best of him, and steps closer to the bed. "Noct, it's barely daylight out," he says. "Little early to hit the bottle, yeah?" 

Noct doesn't look up at the sound of his voice, or attempt to answer, or even give any indication that he's aware of Gladio's presence. Worry comes crowding back in alongside the irritation, and Gladio finishes crossing the room, stepping up next to the bed. Noct's still mumbling, staring up at the ceiling, and now that Gladio's close enough, he's able to tell that Noct's breathing sounds... off. It's slow, and somewhat laboured, as if it's an effort for him to get a breath out. Is Noct in the middle of a panic attack after all? Gladio frowns. "Noct?" 

No answer, and Gladio reaches out, carefully tapping a finger against his shoulder. _That_ gets a response, though it's even more alarming. Noct tips his head down slowly, towards his shoulder, a frown twisting across his face. He mumbles something new, but it makes no sense to Gladio. He still doesn't seem to understand that Gladio is here. Fear slithers down Gladio's throat, curling up heavy in his stomach. This isn't a panic attack. He doesn't know _what_ this is. 

"Noct," he says, making his voice loud and forceful, hoping to provoke a response. It takes another long moment, but Noct does at last finally tip his head in Gladio's direction, and fear settles even heavier as Gladio gets a look at his eyes. The pupils are dilated, and he's unable to focus them on Gladio. Something's seriously wrong. Gladio looks at the bottle of alcohol again, his entire body going cold as a sudden thought hits him. "Please, no," he murmurs, even as he begins scanning the bed, his hands patting around for something he desperately hopes isn't there. 

"Noct, kid, you better not have done something that stupid," he says, and ignores the slight shake in his voice as he slides his hands under Noct's body and runs them along the mattress. It doesn't take him long to find what he's looking for, his heart constricting with fear and grief as he pulls out the empty pill bottle. "Oh fuck," he says, voice breaking this time, and then he stops letting himself think, scared panic taking over as he acts on instinct. 

He absently pockets the bottle and then scoops Noct up—and Astrals the kid is so _light_ , he's thirty years old but feels like he can't weigh more than a hundred pounds—putting Noct's limp and unresisting body across his shoulders, behind his neck, one arm around Noct's knees and the other holding onto his wrist. Noct moans, and then gags, the only warning he gets before Noct's throwing up, warmth splattering against Gladio's back and dripping to the floor. As gross as it is, Gladio knows it's a good thing. Noct needs to get the pills and alcohol he ingested out of him, and the sooner the better. 

Noct doesn't vomit for long, and Gladio pays the disgusting mess no mind, moving quickly out of the room and down the hall, needing to get them to the medical wing fast. When he gets to the bank of elevators he lets go of Noct's arm briefly, punching the down button. "Come on, dammit," he growls at them, the wait torture as they crawl between floors, slowly making their way to him. Finally the doors jerk open with a ding, and Gladio steps on, jabbing at the button for the correct floor. 

Noct moans again, and Gladio braces himself for more vomit, but it doesn't come. "You're gonna be okay, Noct," Gladio tells him, but he's not sure if Noct is really aware of him, or what's going on. It helps _him_ to say it though, because he needs to hear the words and believe that Noct's going to survive this. He's already failed Noct too many times. This isn't going to be the final one. He'll be damned if he lets that happen. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, fumbling awkwardly to unlock it and still keep a good grip on Noct. He calls Prompto, because as bad as the kid's reaction will be, Iggy's will be worse, and Gladio can admit to being cowardly enough to not want to face it. 

"Gla'io?" Prompto mumbles around a yawn when he answers. His voice is rough and fogged with sleep, and it's kind of cute, but Gladio doesn't have time for that. 

"Noct's took something," he says without preamble. "Pills, maybe a whole bottle of 'em. And alcohol. Half the bottle of rum I gave him for his birthday. I'm taking him to the medical wing. He's conscious, but... fuck Prompto, he's really out of it. His pupils are dilated, he's not breathing well, he threw up on me... it's bad. You need to call Iggy and meet me there." 

"...Shit," Prompto says after a startled moment. "Shit shit shit. Noct tried to kill himself?" His voice is shaking now, all traces of sleep gone from his words, and even through the phone it's obvious how close to tears he is. 

"Looks that way," Gladio says, and then has to take a hard moment to calm himself, swallowing painfully as the gravity of the situation truly hits him. It's an Astrals-damned _suicide attempt_ , and it's the last thing he'd ever expect Noct to do. Hell, back when the Crystal had still been killing him and the rest of them had no idea, the kid had spent so much time trying to convince Gladio that he _didn't_ want to kill himself despite how recklessly he'd kept behaving in battle. He'd seemed upset and angry at the very thought of it. 

The elevator dings, alerting him to his destination before the doors slide open. He takes a deep breath and then steps out. "I've gotta go," he says into the phone. "You and Iggy get down here." 

"Be there," Prompto says, and the line goes dead. 

Gladio shoves his phone back into his pocket and then grabs onto Noct's arm again. Noct lets out another moan, and then gasps as he struggles to draw in a breath. Gladio hesitates for only a second before he decides fuck it, and starts running down the hall, his grip tight on Noct as he races to get them to the med wing, skidding into the main area a few minutes later. "Need some help here," he barks out, and it doesn't take long for several doctors to start swarming him. There's about thirty in total that have come back to Insomnia, more than they probably need while the population's still fairly small and injuries and illnesses mostly minor, but at the moment Gladio's grateful for every last one of them. 

Things become a blur after that as they take Noct away from him, shouting to each other as they move rapidly, carrying him elsewhere. Gladio doesn't try to focus on any of it, just follows after Noct's body, shoving aside the one man that tries to stop him. "I'm his Shield," he growls, and the guy scurries away. He takes up a spot in the corner of the room, against the wall and out of the way, and no one else tries to make him leave. 

The doctors work quickly, getting Noct into a bed, hooking him up to a monitor and getting an IV set into his hand, and Gladio's so busy watching, it takes him time to realise that he's being asked a question. "What?" he says, finally focusing on the woman standing in front of him. 

"We need to know what he took," she says, likely repeating the statement, and the patience in her voice despite that is oddly reassuring. She's not screaming or demanding, and that gives him hope that Noct's going to be okay now—that he brought him in time. He hasn't failed him— "Sir?" —and right, she's waiting on an answer. 

"Um. Pills. And alcohol. Rum," he says, as if the type of alcohol matters. 

"Do you know how long ago?" 

"Uh—" Cor had confirmed talking with him this morning about the body found, a little earlier before Gladio had come by, and Noct had been fine then. "Within the last hour." 

"Do you know what kind of pills, or how many?" 

He shakes his head, a helpless feeling sweeping over him as he starts to say he doesn't know, but then he remembers the empty bottle in his pocket. He pulls it out, shoving it at her, and she takes it from him with a thanks, returning to the swarm and handing the bottle over to someone else. He's distracted then as Prompto and Ignis show up, easily following the commotion to find him. Prompto looks frantic, and Iggy looks—well, he looks lost. And devastated. He's not crying, but Gladio can see the drying tear track on his cheek, made more easily visible by the lack of his visor, and it makes his stomach clench up. 

"Is he—are they—we hurried—" Prompto can't seem to figure out what he wants to say first, and it's clear he's barely keeping it together, chest heaving with ragged breaths as he clenches and unclenches his hands into fists at his sides. 

Gladio shakes his head again. "Don't know. They'll tell us something when they can, I guess." 

"Where is he?" Ignis asks, and his voice is just barely above a whisper, the last word fading away to almost nothing. It's so unlike the strong, forceful Iggy that he's used to—it's reminiscent of the early days when Noct disappeared and the three of them wandered around in a daze, utterly useless without their king. Gladio would be hard-pressed to say who had taken it the hardest, but Iggy's despair had been nearly impossible to watch, knowing he'd low-key been in love with Noct for a few years by that point. 

"He's—" A shout interrupts him, and he turns his attention back to Noct, his heart nearly stopping at the sight. Noct's movements are weak and uncoordinated, but he's obviously doing his best to fight the doctor trying to get a tube in his mouth, shaking his head from side to side, twisting his body as his hands shove ineffectually at the woman's chest. He's saying the word "no" repeatedly, but it's so slurred that it's mostly just the first consonant, the vowel breaking through only every now and then. 

Ignis takes a few steps towards the commotion, panic written all over his face, and then turns back to Gladio, his hand reaching out in a literal plea. "What's happening? Is he—what's going on?" 

Gladio stares at the scene a moment longer, hoping with all his heart that Noct simply has no idea what's happening. Hoping that he isn't trying to prevent them from saving him. Prompto's crying openly now, facing his body away from Noct, unable to bear the heartbreaking picture his best friend is currently making. "He's fighting them," Gladio finally says. He keeps his voice flat, unable to let his true emotions break through. The others are falling apart, but he has to stay strong for all of them. "They're trying to put a tube in his throat, but he's not letting them." 

"They're trying to save him," Ignis says, the words cracking as his composure slips even more. 

"Guess he doesn't want that," Gladio can't help but say, and Ignis' only response to that is a choked off sob that he swallows down as he steps back toward the wall. 

He wants to scream, to shout out all of his anger at the situation until his voice is hoarse and his throat is raw and aching from the abuse. He wants to turn and punch at the wall behind him until the cement's crumbling into thousands of tiny pieces and his hand's bleeding, his bones cracked and broken. He realises now that he was wrong. Even if Noct lives, Gladio's still failed him. Whatever's going on with Noct, it's enough to have him wanting to die, enough to make him _attempt_ to die. Noct's been struggling with these thoughts for Astrals knows how long, and Gladio has completely failed to see it. 

He's Noct's Shield, for Astrals sake, it's his sworn _duty_ to be by Noct's side and protect him from anything and everything—even if it's from Noct himself. Instead he's been neglecting that to go run around and be an over-glorified guard dog for the city. And yeah, the citizens are important, and worth protecting, but there are other Crownsguard, and the kingdom is _nothing_ without Noct. 

He breathes deep, trying to choke down the rage, and accidentally inhales the stench of Noct's earlier vomit that's still on his jacket. He'd already forgotten about it, though now that he's smelling it he's not sure _how_ —it's acrid, and makes his nose wrinkle. He pulls the jacket off, balling it up and setting it down on the floor, his attention caught once more by Noct as he lets out another weak yell, jerking his head away from the tube hitting against his lips. 

They end up having to restrain him, slipping his hands and legs into thick padded leather straps and binding them to the rails on the bed. It confuses him enough that he stops fighting, only letting out a weak "no" occasionally before he gives up on that too, a few tears slipping down his cheeks as he seems to accept his situation. He looks so pitiful like that, tied down and crying, and Gladio knows he'll never get the sight of it out of his mind. 

The tubes go down his throat after that, and then they untie his right hand and leg to turn him on his side. Noct doesn't make any more attempts to fight them—either because he's too out of it or he just doesn't see the point. 

"What are they doing?" Prompto asks, pulling Gladio's attention to him. He's stopped crying, but small sniffles still escape him now and then, and his eyes are watery and red-rimmed. It won't take much to push him back over the edge, and Gladio wants to tell him to go wait out in the lobby away from all this, only he knows Prompto would never leave. He can't blame the kid. None of them should be in here seeing this, it's going to fuck them all up, but he knows they don't dare leave. Noct needs them, and they're going to stick by his side no matter how painful it is. 

"Gettin' the pills outta him, I suppose," Gladio says, curling his fingers so tight into a fist that his knuckles go white. He's so angry at himself for not having been able to stop this. He should have seen it coming, should have been there for Noct, and that failure makes him still want to punch the wall. He holds back only because he wants all attention on Noct. 

"I thought they made people take charcoal. Those tubes look so invasive..." 

Gladio looks away, not having an answer for him. Prompto's right about the tubes, they look so unnatural and alien running out of Noct's mouth, and he's struck with an irrational urge to go rip them out, as if they're the reason Noct's lying there unresponsive and half out of it. 

One of the doctors on the fringes of the swarm—not that it's really one anymore, there's only three of them in the room now that Noct's not resisting—seems to overhear them, and breaks away in their direction. "Activated charcoal is normally the standard in an overdose situation, or an antidote if there's one available," he says, looking to Prompto. "He took Xanax, which does have an antidote, but unfortunately we have none on hand here." 

"Then why not charcoal? Why does he have to suffer even more, why does he need those tubes forced down his throat?" Prompto asks, his voice small and wobbling, and gods, Gladio hopes he doesn't start crying again. The sound of it breaks his heart almost as much as the sight of Noct does. 

"The tubes will feel somewhat uncomfortable, if he's even alert enough to feel them, but they shouldn't cause him more than minimal pain, if any at all. He seems to be in and out of awareness, and his breathing is very laboured, so there is a large risk that he would vomit the charcoal back up and obstruct his airways, or simply not be able to drink it at all. Pumping his stomach first is the safer option, and then he will be given charcoal through the tube to help bind whatever is left." 

Prompto doesn't respond to the information, looking back to Noct, watching with a pale face as water's forced into Noct's stomach through the tube with a large syringe, and then drawn back out. Gladio wants to wrap the kid up in a hug, but he settles for laying a comforting hand on Prompto's shoulder instead. Prompto lets out another sniffle at the contact, his own hand reaching up to grab at Gladio's. 

"Thank you," Ignis murmurs to the doctor after a moment, and the man nods at them before walking away. 

It's a slow, agonising process, but eventually they're pulling the tubes from Noct's throat, undoing the other two restraints shortly after. They leave the IV in his hand, and the clip on his finger that sends his vital signs to the monitor. Gladio had expected him to look more natural once the tubes were gone, but he really doesn't, and it's made worse again when they stick more plastic in his nose, to help him breathe better. He looks so weak, and half-dead still, and it highlights to Gladio how easily they could have lost Noct if he hadn't come along and found him. 

"What's happening?" Ignis asks, apparently sensing the change in activity. Gladio can't tear his eyes away from Noct long enough to form an answer for him, so after a hesitation Prompto begins explaining everything the doctors had just done and what they're doing now. It makes Gladio sick to hear it all laid out. Watching it unfold had felt surreal, like some kind of fever dream that maybe he could still wake up from if he just wished hard enough, but hearing it recounted now—it makes it too real. He hates it. 

At last Noct is settled, and the three of them are left alone with him. They approach his bedside slowly, and Gladio's relieved to hear he's breathing a little easier, the additional oxygen helping him. He's asleep now, still curled up on his side, and Gladio's heart aches to see how small and vulnerable he looks. 

"Noct?" Ignis whispers uncertainly. 

"He's asleep," Prompto murmurs. 

Ignis grasps his hand then, and Prompto seems to understand what he needs even without words, guiding his hand to Noct's head, drawing back when Ignis lets go of him and threads his fingers through Noct's hair, letting his hand rest gently there. "Oh Noct," he says, and though the words are quiet, the sheer amount of emotion in them makes Gladio's chest tighten painfully. 

This is all his fault. Prompto and Iggy wouldn't be hurting like this now if only he'd done his job and stayed by Noct's side. If he could have just been there for him, just _seen_ — 

He sighs heavily, trying to shove aside the thoughts before they take complete root. They'll only make him angrier with himself, and he doesn't want to focus on that right now. He wants to sit here beside Noct's bed, watching over him and taking some small comfort in the fact that he's still alive, and that even if Gladio fucked up everything else, he at least did this one thing right. He saved Noct before it was too late. 

Prompto reaches out, tentatively taking a hold of Noct's hand, the one without the IV, and curls his fingers loosely around it. Fresh tears are trailing down his cheeks, and Gladio envies him a little for his ability to cry so easily. He'd never be able to let his own emotions out so freely. "Why would Noct do this?" Prompto chokes out, but no one has an answer for him. 

It's too much. His friends' displays of grief are tearing at him, and he can't breathe for the guilt and sadness that are overwhelming him. "Gonna get some chairs for us," he says gruffly, and flees the room as fast as he dares. He finds a bathroom, ducking into it and shutting the door behind him. Then he stands over the sink and takes deep breaths, resisting the urge to scream and slam his fist into the mirror. He tries to cry, but his eyes stay dry, his throat clogged with sobs that won't come out. 

After a long moment, he scrubs a hand over his tired face and leaves in search of the most comfortable spare chairs he can find. It's going to be a long day, and an even longer night. They'll need them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know chapter six was posted ages ago, but I've been wanting to write this since I first put the chapter up. I actually started it awhile back, but had trouble getting into Gladio's head, so it sat for awhile. Now I've finally managed to finish it, although I had to listen to some sad-sounding chillstep to help get me in the right frame of mind. (It's Sappheiros - Memories (Eunoia Remix), if anyone wants to listen. It's gorgeous.)
> 
> Also, I had to look up so much stuff for this scene, my search history probably looks really worrying now.


	2. Chapter 6: Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second scene is from Prompto's point of view, and also accompanies chapter six. It follows directly after the previous scene.
> 
> (Because I thought I was done with the aftermath, but my brain said NOPE!)

Noct isn't waking.

Okay, it's not really surprising, given everything he's just been through, but Prompto desperately needs for him to wake up. He's sick of waiting, and asleep is a little too close to 'dead' right now. There's even a phrase for it, 'dead to the world,' and that's what Noct is right now, and it's _terrifying_. He doesn't want Noct to be dead to the world. He doesn't want Noct to be dead at all. 

Prompto bites on his lip to stop more sobs from coming, and reaches out to grasp Noct's hand. It's warm, which is reassuring, but there's no reaction when he curls his fingers around Noct's and squeezes gently, and that's upsetting. He can't believe Noct's done this. What would make him want to? What is so bad enough in his best friend's life right now that he felt doing this was the only option? He hates feeling so clueless about it. They're best friends, aren't they? If anyone should know, it should be him... right? 

...Only they haven't really spent much time together since returning to Insomnia, have they? It's bad, he feels really guilty about it, but there's been so much going on trying to get the city going properly again, and when he does think about Noct, he never seems to be around... and maybe Prompto can admit to himself he hasn't tried hard enough. But, well, it's awkward. Noct's been gone for ten years, and so much has changed... He's scared they won't have anything in common anymore. Things were so easy when they were teenagers, they could goof around and be silly with each other, but now Noct's always so quiet and he seems in his head a lot, he has those panic attacks... Prompto's not sure how to talk to him anymore sometimes. 

But maybe that's how Noct feels sometimes too. Maybe he doesn't know how to talk to Prompto either, 'cause he hasn't made an effort to hang out with Prompto any more than Prompto's made an effort to hang out with him. The only person he does seem to spend time with is Iggy, and it's obvious where _that_ is heading. But him and Noct, it's like they're barely even friends these days. It should be killing him, drowning him in self-doubt and insecurity about his place in Noct's life, but he's barely even noticed it. It makes his chest ache that it took Noct doing something this drastic for Prompto to realise it. 

Well, he's gonna change that! He's gonna start being a best friend to his best friend again. As soon as Noct wakes up, at least... 

"Iggy?" 

"Hmm?" Ignis doesn't look up. He can't see, but that hasn't stopped him from 'watching' Noct for the past few hours. He's been petting Noct's hair a lot, too, and man, Prompto _so_ needs to make a bet with Gladio on who will make the first move once the situation's less dire. 

"You spend the most time with Noct these days, right? Did you... were there any, ya know, signs?" 

Ignis doesn't respond right away, steadfastly focusing on running his fingers through Noct's dark strands. He seems to be unable to bring himself to stop touching Noct. Well, Prompto can't blame him. He's not much better, reaching out for Noct's hand, squeezing it for a reaction that doesn't come, and then holding it until he gets sweaty and he has to let go and wipe his palm on his jeans, only to grab it again five minutes later and repeat it all. "Not as such," Ignis finally says, and Prompto doesn't like the way that sounds. 

"What's that mean?" It's Gladio, who hasn't said a word since bringing back some chairs for them to sit in, and Prompto actually gives a small sigh of relief at finally hearing him speak. They all know each other too well, and he knows the big guy's trying to be strong for them while blaming himself for failing Noct. Prompto can't really begrudge him his coping method—or his feelings, _pretty_ sure they're _all_ blaming themselves—but it hurts him to see Gladio not only bottle it all up, but not turn to any of them privately. He just holds it all in until he swallows it down or explodes it all back out. 

Prompto doesn't like explosions. It reminds him of Gralea, of an Ardyn whose patient, nonchalant facade had faded, twisting into something ugly and bitter and dark while he had hung there, helpless and restrained... He'd come undone earlier while watching Noct fight against the doctors trying to save him, and seeing them have to restrain his best friend had nearly undone him all over again, bringing up those long-buried memories. 

"Iggy," Gladio says, jolting Prompto from past horrors. "What do you know? I swear, if you had any idea of this..." 

Prompto's stomach twists unpleasantly at that. Surely Iggy wouldn't hide something like this from them? 'Cause dude, that would be really uncool, _and_ stupid, and Iggy's usually a pretty smart guy. But Ignis shakes his head, to Prompto's relief. "I can promise you, I did not expect this in the least," Ignis says quietly. 

"But you know something?" Prompto asks, reaching for Noct's hand again. No response, and he just wants to cry, because he can't understand what would make Noct do this. "Something that would make this make sense..." 

Ignis hesitates. "No." 

"Iggy," Gladio says, and Prompto squirms in his seat, absently squeezing Noct's hand a second time. There's a warning in Gladio's voice that he doesn't like. 

Ignis finally looks up, towards the direction of Gladio's voice, a deep frown on his face. "He's owed his privacy." 

Gladio's arm twitches visibly, and Prompto wonders how close the big guy is to slamming his fist into the nearest wall. He stands abruptly, kicking at his chair to knock it out of his way, stomping around the room like an angry behemoth, and Prompto watches him nervously, hoping he can keep himself under control. 

"He forfeit that privacy as soon as he acted on this stupid idea," Gladio eventually says after several back and forths. Prompto feels a little dizzy following him. 

"He isn't stupid," Ignis says, and there's venom in his voice, the words a hard snarl that sends a shiver down Prompto's spine. Iggy's always so polite and kind, he often forgets how fierce and dangerous the man can really be. "He's hurting deeply, and he needs our support, not our judgement, nor our condemnation." 

Gladio doesn't respond, but he halts in his spot, every muscle in his body rigid. The sudden tension in the room is thick enough to choke on. Prompto squirms some more. He wants to say something, make a dumb joke, find some way to diffuse the situation, but nothing about this is funny. "I don't think Gladio was saying that..." he finally offers weakly. "We wanna help him, but we can't if we don't know what's wrong." 

"I know you try to keep his confidence as much as possible, Iggy, but his privacy means nothing if he's dead." 

There's a long silence, and then Ignis lets out a sigh, slumping down in his chair. "He has been experiencing bouts of dissociation since our return to Insomnia." 

Prompto frowns, not really familiar with the word. "Dissociation?" 

"I'm uncertain to the exact nature of all his symptoms, or how frequently or severely he experiences certain ones, as he doesn't discuss them, but essentially they are episodes in which he disconnects from the world." 

That... doesn't clarify things _at all_. Prompto knows he's not stupid, far from it, but Iggy's explanation—if it really is one—has him totally lost. Disconnecting from the world—that just makes him think of old sci-fi movies, and he's fairly sure Noct's not some sorta robot, or human turned into artificial intelligence. He lets go of Noct's hand, wiping his palm on his jeans. "I don't get it." 

For the first time, Ignis pulls his hand away from Noct, resting his palms on his legs as he looks unseeing down at his lap. He clearly feels like he's betraying Noct, and Prompto wishes there were some way to reassure him. Or that this whole screwed up situation wasn't happening. "He described it once as the world not feeling real, or that he himself doesn't feel real. He mentioned a feeling of being outside his own body, watching himself, or having the world become rather distant to his body. He's also mentioned touching things and not being able to feel them. He has said that physical contact with another person helps with these sensations, but they are still quite distressing, as I'm sure you can imagine." 

Astrals... that's what his best friend has been dealing with? And along with panic attacks too. He's only witnessed two but he's sure there's been more, remembering his own experiences with them when he was still a kid. He doesn't really know what the dissociating thing must be like—Iggy's explanation is still a little hard to grasp, because he has no real frame of reference for it—but it sounds awful, and it must be pretty bad if Noct attempted to take his own life. The whole thing makes him feel sick. He feels his eyes watering again, but he wipes the tears away, refusing to cry right now. "Why do they happen?" he asks, trying to focus on the conversation instead of his own sorrow. He needs a better understanding if he's gonna help Noct. 

"Emotional distress triggers them." 

"Emotional distress?" Gladio barks out a sudden laugh, but there's no amusement in it. It's bitter and angry-sounding, and it makes Prompto jerk his head towards him in alarm, scared that Gladio's finally reached his breaking point. "You mean Noct's fucking depressed, enough to do _this_ apparently, but like always he can't be bothered to tell us when something serious is going on." He starts pacing again, and Prompto tracks him with his eyes, grabbing at Noct's hand. It's dumb 'cause Noct's asleep and doesn't know what's going on, but he feels comforted by the contact. 

Ignis reaches for Noct again as well, fingers curling protectively in his hair as he straightens back up, body taut, his one open eye narrowed in a clear glare despite the damage to it. "Don't you dare blame him or get angry with him, Gladiolus Amicitia," he hisses out. "You've done enough damage in the past by letting your fear masquerade as misplaced anger. I won't have it, not this time." 

Prompto watches with wide eyes as Gladio takes a few steps towards the wall, ugly rage written across his face, and for one terrifying moment he's _sure_ that Gladio's going to slam his fist into the concrete, which will probably wake Noct and bring in the doctors and cause a bunch of commotion and chaos that will get them all kicked out, and Prompto is absolutely _not_ willing to part from Noct's side at the moment, but then Gladio takes a few deep breaths, his expression changing into something shamed as his muscles relax. 

"I can't sit still waiting for him to wake, or stay here trying to pin down just why this happened," Gladio admits, and the amount of guilt in his voice makes Prompto ache for him. 

"Then don't," Ignis says, and though the words are blunt, his voice is soft. "Prompto and I can keep you updated. For now, perhaps it's better if you go back on patrol, and work through your feelings so that you may avoid doing or saying anything you will regret once Noct wakes." 

"Yeah," Gladio agrees with a sigh, moving to the doorway, though he lingers in it, looking back at Prompto. "Text me when he wakes?" 

Prompto attempts a smile. It feels wrong, but he keeps it plastered on his face anyway. He's had plenty of practice smiling while everything falls apart around him. "Sure thing, big guy." 

He and Iggy are both quiet after Gladio leaves, content to reassure themselves silently that Noct's still alive and with them. Prompto squeezes Noct's hand for the umpteenth time, fresh disappointment washing over him when there's still no response. He just wants Noct to be okay... 

Even though Ignis has explained about the dissociation, Prompto's still having a hard time, struggling to understand why Noct would do this. Why he would let things get so bad without trying to reach out to any of them... why hadn't he talked to them, or asked for help? Had he even thought about them, or how they would react if he'd—if he'd— 

_If he'd died_ , Prompto forces himself to think, the words echoing viciously around his mind, and he shudders at the starkness of them. It feels a little selfish, Noct taking all those pills without considering—or maybe caring? That just makes Prompto want to cry some more—what it would do to his friends, but he knows Ignis is right, Noct doesn't need their condemnation. 

And it's not _really_ Noct's fault, he knows that. Noct's had to deal with so much since Insomnia's fall, and then that shit stupid prophecy on top of it all, and having to be stuck in the Crystal for _ten years_... It almost seems amazing Noct made it this long before trying anything. So he can't _really_ blame him... but it still hurts. 

Someone eventually brings them some lunch, and then dinner, and Noct still doesn't wake. He's checked on every hour or so, and no one ever starts calling for help or running out of the room in a panic, so Prompto can only assume that his best friend's excessive sleep is normal. He texts Gladio a few times, just to let him know Noct's still sleeping, and he's been yawning for an hour by the time it grows dark out. 

"You should go get some sleep," Ignis says quietly, after Prompto fails to hold back yet another yawn. 

"No—I can't—Noct—" 

"Will probably sleep through the night," Ignis says, more firmly. "There is no sense in depriving yourself of sleep at this point. You can help Noct best by taking care of yourself. You won't be able to support him if you're collapsing from exhaustion." 

Prompto sighs, letting go of Noct's hand to rub at his bleary eyes. Iggy's right, like he always is. "What about you?" he asks, managing to suppress a yawn for once. "You should sleep too." 

Ignis shakes his head. "No," he says simply. 

"But—" Prompto starts, confused. 

"I'm not leaving him," Ignis says, cutting him off, and there's a subtle fear in his voice that makes Prompto bite down on his lip, halting any more protests. He supposes Ignis is an adult, he can make his own decisions, even those he knows are obviously not good for him. 

So instead he just says, "If he wakes—" 

"I shall text you." 

"'Kay. Thanks, Iggy." 

"Get some sleep, Prompto." 

And Prompto tries, he really does. But in the dark of his own small room, the day's events come fully crashing down on him, and he can't keep them from playing over and over in his head. There'd been the phone call from Gladio first, making his heart nearly stop when Gladio had said _Noct's took something. Pills, maybe a whole bottle of 'em_ , and he'd almost started bawling then and there. 

Then his own phone call to Iggy, which he'd made a complete mess of, blurting it out with no sense of tact, _like always_. And man, if Prompto never has to hear Iggy cry like that again, no matter how quickly he'd calmed himself, it'll still be too soon. He wants to sympathy cry just remembering it. Then everything that had happened in the medical wing after they'd gotten there had been... well, it's still this confused emotional jumble in his head, that's for sure. 

His first glimpse of Noct had been bad enough, looking so helpless and lost on that hospital bed, eyes unfocused as doctors had crowded around him, lips moving in words that Prompto couldn't understand, but when he'd started fighting against the doctors, the word "no" had been way too clear, and it had been too much for him to bear. 

And after that, the restraints, and the tubes down his throat, and that IV in his hand, the monitor hooked up to him, that thing in his nose just so he could _breathe_ without sounding like a dying dualhorn, it was all wrong, his best friend was never meant to look like that, and it's those images in his head now, upsetting him and bringing the tears once more. 

He blinks them back, crawling out of bed, intending to go to the kitchens for a glass of warm milk. It's a holdover from his childhood—when he'd been little and had nightmares, his mom would always give him warm milk, telling him it would chase away the dreams and help him sleep. Whether it's true or not, he finds comfort in the thought. 

It doesn't work this time, though. His mind's moved on to what ifs now, and those thoughts plague him. If Gladio hadn't found Noct in time, if they'd just assumed he'd gone wandering the Citadel again as he's done lately, if the doctors hadn't been able to work fast enough... ten years without his best friend by his side had _sucked_ , Prompto doesn't want a whole lifetime of it. He needs Noct, they _all_ need Noct. They'd fractured and fallen apart without him. Noct is the glue that holds them together, the thing that makes them all whole. It's not the same if he's gone, _they're_ not the same. 

He sets his empty glass down in a sink, his throat tightening with grief as tears blur his vision. _Why would Noct do this_. It's the one thing he keeps coming back to, the thought he keeps getting stuck on. All the reasons he can come up with, all the explanations Iggy can give, they just don't seem good enough. Because he's Noct's best friend, _and he should have known_. 

"Hey." It's Gladio's voice, coming from behind him, uncomfortable and uncertain. "You okay?" 

Prompto doesn't think. He turns and flings himself into that large chest, letting his hands latch onto Gladio's shirt as he buries his face in it to stifle the sobs tearing their way from his throat, hot tears wetting his cheeks. After a moment, Gladio's arms come up to wrap around him, loose and hesitant. Prompto clings on to him tighter, knowing he's gonna be super embarrassed by this later, but right now he doesn't care. He can't hold this in. "I don't want Noct to die," he chokes out, his voice muffled but still understandable, and Gladio's arms wrap more firmly around him. 

"He isn't gonna," Gladio says. His voice is all rumbly and deep in his chest, and it soothes Prompto some. "I found him in time, yeah? He's gonna be okay." 

"Physically maybe, but what about everything else?" Prompto says, his breath hitching as he tries to calm himself down. 

"...I don't know," Gladio admits. "But we'll figure it out, Prompto. We're not gonna let him give up and die. _I_ won't let him. I'm his Shield. I'll protect him no matter what. Even from himself." 

The words are enough to slowly dry his tears, his sobs lessening into small sniffles. He doubts it'll really be that easy, but the assurance in Gladio's voice comforts him. They stay quietly like that for a few minutes. It's nice to be held. Prompto likes physical affection, but he never seems to have the chance for it. His parents would give him hugs when he was little, but as he got older and they started working more, taking trips away from the house more frequently, those hugs lessened and then eventually disappeared. 

That leaves him his friends, but Prompto rarely dares ever trying to hug Iggy—only those times years ago after Noct had first disappeared, when Ignis had been at his lowest—and he's always been a little too intimidated to consider Gladio before. Although duh, that's clearly been a mistake... And Noct has always seemed uncomfortable with his hugs, tensing up under Prompto's arms and rarely giving any of his own. Noct doesn't really seem to touch any of them, except for Ignis... "Hey," he says suddenly, lifting his head from Gladio's shirt. "Noct and Iggy. Bets on who makes the first move?" 

Gladio grins, a brief but genuine laugh escaping him. "That's easy. Iggy ain't got the balls when it comes to Noct. He's too hung up on propriety still, even though Noct's never cared about that shit." 

Prompto smiles, knowing it's true. "Yeah, but Noct's pretty oblivious. I bet he doesn't even know his own feelings, never mind Iggy's." 

"Hmm, a good point," Gladio concedes. "Guess we'll have to wait and see." 

Prompto nods against his chest, and _maybe_ it's a little like a chocobo nuzzling against its rider, but he'll never admit it. "So you're for Noct, I'm for Iggy. Twenty gil?" 

He feels Gladio laugh a second time, and the vibrations relax him further. "You're on," Gladio says, and Prompto just smiles again, snuggling deeper against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm giving major props to my best friend for her assistance in looking this over and helping me to "Prompto it up" more.
> 
> Also apologies to anyone who is dying waiting for the next chapter of grey skies. I haven't started it yet. I got too busy with moving, and now I need to get these scenes out of my head first. But I should be getting to it soon.


	3. Chapter 6: Ignis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third scene is from Ignis' point of view, and follows the previous two scenes that accompany chapter six. This is the last scene for this particular aftermath.

"Would you like a cot brought in to sleep on, or perhaps a reclining armchair, Sir Scientia?"

"No thank you," Ignis declines politely, resisting the urge to snort at "Sir Scientia." It would be most undignified, but the 'title' is ridiculous. People have struggled with how to address him since they all began rebuilding Insomnia—Noctis is their king, but not technically, and there's hardly a true kingdom or a royal family at the moment, and no one's certain of Ignis' role in things anymore. Some days even he isn't certain, but in no way is "Sir Scientia" proper. 

"Are you sure? It would be no trouble at all," the woman says, but Ignis shakes his head. He can't consider sleep at a time like this. Not when Noctis is... 

He waits until the clack of her retreating footsteps on the tile fades from his hearing, and then he takes in a deep breath, exhaling it out slowly. He's cried once, embarrassingly, on the phone with Prompto. He isn't going to do it again unless there's good reason to. 

Extending his hand carefully, he rests his palm flat against Noctis' chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of it as he breathes. Reassuring himself that Noctis is alive. He's breathing unassisted now, which Ignis knows is a good thing, but he can't stop the irrational fear that Noctis will somehow die if he goes to sleep, slipping away from the world while Ignis is completely unaware. The idea's terrifying— _paralysing_ —and his own breathing almost stops at the thought. He doesn't want to lose Noct, never again. 

If he's honest with himself, he's still in complete disbelief that Noctis has even attempted suicide. He's been significantly more aware than the others how much Noctis has been struggling these past three and a half months, trying and failing to cope with everything he's gone through, but Ignis has never once considered suicide a possibility. He can still easily call up the image of a frightened sixteen year old Noctis, hunkered down on the sofa in his apartment, turning his head away from Ignis to hide the tears trailing down his cheeks as he raggedly admitted his medication was giving him dark thoughts and he was scared he would harm himself. A little gentle prodding had revealed the suicidal nature of those thoughts, and combined with his intense anger over Gladio's accusations on their journey after the fall, Ignis had dismissed suicide as an impossibility for Noctis. 

Now it turns out he was wrong, and he's at a loss to understand it. Prompto had questioned earlier if there were signs—Ignis can't think of one. Or rather, he can think of plenty, and easily apply them to Noctis in retrospect, but he can't _truly_ link them to the attempt, because in his mind he can't reconcile the idea of Noctis killing himself despite the evidence right there in the hospital bed next to him. He'd betrayed Noctis' privacy with the truth of his dissociative episodes, but he doesn't believe that to be the reason. Or perhaps not the _full_ reason. 

But then, he's not certain there is a full reason. All the signs were more indicative of depression, and the post traumatic stress disorder Noctis likely has. There is nothing that has hinted at any plan, no giving away of his few possessions, no attempts to place one of them officially in charge of the kingdom, no out of place relief or calm... no note, either, he assumes, and Ignis has the feeling that whatever distressed Noctis enough to try, the decision was an impulse. Which gives him hope that perhaps Noct does not _truly_ wish to die— 

Noct's pitiful attempts at yelling _no_ echo in his ears then, and Ignis swallows at the memory. He'll be hearing that in his head for a long time to come, he knows. He wonders if it was as Gladio said, if Noct had been purposely fighting against the attempt to save him. That he hadn't been able to see for himself what was happening is frustrating, and gnaws at him. His friends were too distraught and distracted to give him a live rundown of events, but being forced to stand there, not knowing how Noct looked, if he was going to make it, what was being done for him... 

"I'm sorry," he whispers suddenly, feeling for Noct's hand and gripping it tightly. "Noct, I'm so sorry." He bows his head, resting it against the railing of the bed. His scarred eye aches, as if there are tears trapped behind the damage, seeking an escape but unable to find one. "There were signs, but I was blind to them—" Noct would flinch at the joke, if he were awake. Ignis is well aware that his lack of sight is a sore spot for Noct still. He blames himself, though he tries to hide it. Ignis simply knows him too well. 

"If only I could take away your pain. You deserve better than this. You sacrificed so much for the world, and yet—" He pauses, swallowing down sudden rage at the Astrals. Anger won't help him here. "You have been given too little in return," he says, once he's gotten his temper under control. A few tears trickle silently out from his unscarred eye, and he lets out a shuddering breath as he wipes them away. "I would give you the world," he says, voice hushed and broken, "if only you don't leave me." 

He's resolved not to cry, but if a few harsh sobs do happen to slip out, Ignis can at least take solace in being the only one to hear them. 

He doesn't sleep. He can't. Doctors come to check on Noctis, and try to offer him bedding, but he refuses, asking only for coffee instead. He won't leave Noctis' side, not until he wakes and Ignis can reassure himself that Noctis will be fine, if only physically. Mentally, he has no idea what to expect. He wants Noctis to regret it, to have realised he wants to live, but if Gladio was correct in his assessment and Noctis didn't wish to be saved... 

Ignis has no idea how to deal with that. He already frequently feels out of his league when trying to help Noctis through his episodes. He does what he can to reassure Noctis, to comfort and calm him until the worst has passed, but he's too aware that his efforts are nothing more than a bandage for a wound that's beyond his ability to cure. Noctis needs help, needs _therapy_ , medication— 

His thoughts stutter and halt, tripping over the last word. Medication. _Noct's tried to kill himself_ , Prompto had blurted out to Ignis' groggy hello on the phone. _Gladio says he took a bunch of pills!_ And later, when the doctor had come over to soothe Prompto's distress over the tubes in Noctis' throat, he'd said Noctis had taken Xanax. 

It hadn't registered, either time, but it does now, and Ignis' heart constricts with grief and guilt. Xanax isn't something one finds simply lying around. Even now, in the shambles of Insomnia, a prescription is necessary—or at least a talk with a doctor eager to help, if you're perhaps a king who selflessly saved the world. 

And Ignis had been the one to push Noctis to ask for the pills, encouraging him to get them even without considering therapy. This opportunity, the reason Noct is lying in a hospital bed in a half-drugged sleep after a suicide attempt, is because of _him_. Because he'd carelessly pushed Noct right into acquiring a convenient suicide method. 

A distressed cry shudders up from his throat, and more sobs try to follow, clawing their way out, but Ignis chokes them back down before they can make it. He can't fall apart until after he knows Noctis is awake and okay. And perhaps not at all, because he is to blame for this, and what right does he have to cry over what his thoughtless actions have caused? 

He swallows, hard, and squeezes Noctis' hand. "Forgive me, Noct," he murmurs. Noct doesn't, because Noct is unaware of the world around him. Were he awake, though, Ignis wouldn't accept the forgiveness he knows Noct would easily offer. He doesn't deserve it. 

Prompto returns in the morning. "Hey Iggy," he says, collapsing into his chair from the previous day, the legs scraping loudly against the tile. Ignis can hear the exhaustion in his voice and knows Prompto slept no more than he did. 

"Good morning, Prompto," Ignis greets him, trying to sound more awake than he is. 

"How's Noct? Still sleeping?" 

"Unfortunately." 

Ignis can hear rustling fabric that suggests Prompto's fidgeting in his seat. "Is that... normal? I mean, he's been asleep for like a whole day now, right?" 

"Somewhat unusual, perhaps, but Xanax is sometimes used to help with sleep troubles along with its more common known use as an anti-anxiety medication." 

"Yeah, but... a day?" 

Ignis sighs. "I inquired of the doctors some hours ago. Noct had a month and a half supply that he potentially took; the bottle Gladio found with him was empty, but it's uncertain if he previously took any in the manner intended. Regardless, his dose was likely quite substantial, and combined with his poor sleep of late, as well as the emotional distress he's been experiencing, I don't believe his excessive sleep is anything to worry about yet." 

There's no response to that, but Ignis can hear more rustling as Prompto squirms some more. "Oh," he eventually mumbles, and there's an upset in his tone that Ignis is all too familiar with. Thinking about Noctis taking that many pills, imagining him continuously and _deliberately_ swallowing them all down, one after or another, or perhaps in small handfuls... If he thinks too much on it, it's hard to breathe. 

They stay quiet, and Ignis reaches out for Noct's head, running his fingers through limp and dirty hair. There was once a time when Noctis would have been offended at the suggestion his hair was anything less than immaculate. Now Ignis suspects it goes unwashed and unbrushed more often than not. 

After a few minutes of silence, Prompto clears his throat. "Uh, so, I can only stay a few hours, but if you wanna get some sleep..." 

"No." 

"Iggy..." 

" _No_ ," Ignis says again, more forcefully. "I'm not leaving him." It's the same words he said last night, but his decision on the matter hasn't changed. He won't sleep now. Not until Noctis wakes. 

There's a hesitation, and then Prompto says slowly, uncertainly, "It's—it's okay to sleep, you know? Nothing will happen to him. I won't let it." 

Ignis can feel his face heat up, embarrassed at being read so easily, but his voice is steady enough when he replies, "I want to be here for him when he wakes." 

Prompto sighs, but clearly understands this is a battle he won't win, and lapses back into silence. True to his word, he leaves a couple hours later, after extracting another promise from Ignis to be texted whenever Noctis wakes. 

Once he's alone, Ignis scrubs at his face wearily, the lack of sleep beginning to catch up with him despite the coffee he'd caffeinated himself with throughout the night. He absently hides a yawn behind his hand, his polite manners forever ingrained in him, and selfishly hopes that Noctis wakes soon. He's older, and all-nighters aren't as easy to pull off as they were when he was young. He thinks with some longing of his teenage years, when he'd spend the day looking after Noctis, running him here and there, attending this or that meeting, getting in a few hours of Crownsguard training when he could, going back to Noctis' apartment to cook and clean for him, only to return to his own place and spend hours poring over some fascinating bit of Astral lore or ancient Lucian history before catching a couple hours sleep and then getting up to repeat it all again, never worse for the wear. He can't imagine doing that without consequences now. 

"Specs?" Noctis' voice, low and raspy, pulls him abruptly from his reminiscing. 

"Noct," Ignis breathes out, relief washing over him in waves at finally hearing Noct speak. Tears rim his eye, and he's helpless to stop them, wiping at his cheek a few times before giving up and letting them fall. Noctis is awake, he's speaking, he's going to be okay. "How are you feeling?" he manages to get out around the sudden lump in his throat. 

Noctis ignores the question, not that Ignis would expect anything different. "You found me?" 

"Gladio," Ignis answers, trying to shove away the memories of Prompto's phone call, and the rush down here only to stand uselessly by, confused and scared. He can't expand on the circumstances. It's too fresh, too raw. 

"Oh," Noctis says. He sighs, the sound heavy and exhausted, that simple word a clear effort for him to get out. He won't be awake long. "I'm tired..." For some reason, the words make more tears spill down Ignis' face. He reaches out, running his fingers through Noct's hair again, unable to resist touching him, the action as much a comfort to himself as to Noct. "I'm sorry," Noct says, the words a mumble, but Ignis is well skilled at deciphering them, years of practice under his belt. 

"Shh," Ignis shushes. "Rest for now, Noct. We'll talk about it when you're better." 

There's no response, and the change in his breathing moments later tells Ignis that Noctis has already fallen back asleep. He takes several deep breaths, wrestling his wayward emotions back into submission. He'll allow himself the luxury of falling apart soon, but first he must attend to his responsibilities. Reluctantly pulling his hand away from Noct, he retrieves his phone from his pocket and begins to text Prompto. 

_Noct woke up briefly_ , he sends. _He's going to be okay._

It won't truly be that easy, of course. Noctis might be fine physically, but mentally he's far from okay. Whatever made him attempt this needs to be dealt with, and all of his other problems are still there and waiting to be dealt with as well. There's no easy or fast fix for them, and it's made more difficult by the fact that Noctis seems unwilling to look into therapy. But he's _alive_ , and for now that's enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself sad with that one, depsite the mess of thoughts it was. Thanks for the comments and kudos <3


	4. Chapter 8: Ignis (and Prompto)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fourth scene is from Ignis' point of view, and accompanies chapter eight. It takes place before the conversation when Noct and Ignis decide to try a relationship. In particular, it is the scene referenced in this exchange:
> 
> _"It's been brought to my attention that I've been an idiot," Ignis says, and his tone is so matter of fact that Noct snorts._
> 
> _"Yeah? Who was brave enough to do such a thing?"_
> 
> _Ignis smiles, briefly, one corner of his mouth crooking up before his face smooths out again. "Prompto, as it were. He's actually quite terrifying when he's lecturing someone about how idiotic and insensitive they've been."_
> 
> This was previously written and posted in the comments of chapter eight; it has not been modified aside from a couple typos.

Ignis sits at his desk, fingers flying absently over the dots on his keyboard as he types words that he hopes will make sense later. Ostensibly, he's taking notes down for Noctis to read when he's feeling better, but really his mind is entirely elsewhere, thinking back to those moments between him and Noctis that he hasn't been able to get out of his head since they happened.

He's still angry with himself that he let go of so much control. For ten years he's been aware of the depth of his feelings for Noctis, always knowing that nothing would be able to come of it when Noctis returned—if only because it had seemed unlikely that Noctis would survive saving Eos. 

But even though he had, Ignis still hadn't dared entertain the idea of anything happening between them. No matter how close they've grown over the past four months, Ignis has always held himself back, knowing that he's merely a dear friend to Noctis, and will never be anything more than that. 

Hearing Noctis so upset the other night, however, listening to his distress as he'd poured his heart out... it had nearly torn Ignis apart. He'd kept recalling Noctis that night in the medical wing, screaming and fighting against the staff as they'd tried to save his life. All he'd been able to think as Noctis cried to him about being worthless and wanting to die was, _I love you, please don't ever leave me, I can't lose you a second time, I love you_ , and before he'd quite realised what he was doing, he'd been kissing Noct. 

He feels heat creep up his neck, and stops typing for a moment, taking a breath and running a tired hand through his hair. He wonders if Noctis is okay. He'd left the office abruptly yesterday after Ignis had reassured him he'd never do something so inappropriate again. Ignis had known Noctis would be upset about what they'd done—how could he not?—but he'd hoped the distance between them the past several days would have helped. 

Apparently it hasn't, however. Noctis has avoided him today, and ignored his earlier text. Ignis doesn't want to think about how mad Noctis must be with him, how upset he is that Ignis had lost control and... and _rutted_ against him like some animal in heat. Astrals, how stupid he had been. It will be a miracle indeed if this doesn't permanently damage the friendship between them. 

Ignis sighs, reaching for his phone and wishing it would chime with a text. He'd asked Prompto to check on Noctis a short while ago, worried that he couldn't find him, but he has yet to hear back. 

His door slams open suddenly, banging hard against the wall, startling him and making him drop his phone. He hears it hit against the edge of the desk and then tumble to the floor. Frustration surges through him, sharp and immediate. He'll have to get on his hands and knees to find it later, fumbling around like an idiot. Most of the time he's made his peace with his blindness, but there are still times—like now—when it claws painfully at him, the little things digging in and reminding him how much easier his life was with vision. 

Footsteps stalk the few steps across his room to the desk, hands slamming roughly down upon it, and then Prompto's voice rings out into the room. "What the hell is wrong with you, Ignis?" 

"Excuse me?" Ignis frowns uncertainly, unconsciously leaning back in his chair, away from the anger that's radiating almost tangibly in front of him. He's rarely ever heard Prompto so angry, and never before at him. 

"Iggy, you are like the smartest guy I know, and you always have been, ever since Noct and I first became friends. You always seemed to know everything, no matter how obscure, and you're perceptive as hell. So how is it you could be so _idiotic and insensitive_?" Prompto punctuates his last words with another slam of his hands to the desk. 

Ignis flinches. He finds himself at a loss. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're on about, Prompto." 

"Noct!" Prompto practically howls. "How dare you call him a mistake!" 

_Oh_. His face burns with embarrassment as understanding dawns. He wonders how much Prompto knows, if Noctis has told him everything that happened between them. "What has he said to you?" 

"Enough!" Prompto snaps at him. "Enough to know you're being an idiot right now!" 

"Prompto, I appreciate your concern, but you can't possibly know the whole situation—" 

"You two dry-humped like a couple of horny teenagers," Prompto says, an unusual savagery in his tone. " _Twice_." 

Ignis winces, even more embarrassed. Apparently Noctis _has_ told him everything. "Right," he says weakly, slumping down. 

"And then you fucking ran out on him and avoided him for days." 

"I was merely giving him space," Ignis protests. "I knew he would be upset with me. My behaviour that night was out of line, I acted terribly inappropriately—" 

Prompto sighs, all of his anger seemingly leaving him with that action. "Astrals, Ignis, you're an idiot." There's a scrape across the floor as Prompto drags over Ignis' spare chair and drops down into it. "Noct wasn't upset with you after it happened, Iggy, he was _confused_. He wanted to talk to you. He was scared about _you_ being upset." 

The repeated insult barely even registers. Ignis is too focused on trying to make sense of Prompto's words. "What could he have to be confused about?" 

"Wow, I wonder," Prompto says, his deadpan sarcasm perfect enough to rival Ignis'. "It couldn't _possibly_ be the fact that he'd suddenly had a great sexual experience with someone he'd previously only thought saw him as a close friend. Or that he'd seen as a close friend, but now found himself considering if there was more. No, he definitely had no reason to be confused." 

There's a pause as Ignis tries to take that in. 

"C'mon Iggy, you know how Noct is about feelings," Prompto says. "He bottles them all up and pretends they don't exist until they end up overwhelming him, and then he broods obsessively over them trying to make sense of them all." 

"Noct's confused about his feelings for me?" Prompto's first words finally catch up with him, and now Ignis is the one confused. He couldn't imagine Noctis being anything other than upset and maybe angry with what had happened. He'd participated, had gotten off, but Ignis had easily rationalised that away as Noctis being caught up in the moment and physical reactions of his body. 

"That's something you need to talk to Noct about. But I'll tell you that when I found him, he was in his room _crying_ because he thought _you_ thought he was a mistake." 

"Noct could _never_ be a mistake to me," Ignis says, and the immediateness and fierceness of that declaration surprises even him. 

Prompto lets out an exasperated huff. "Tell _him_ that, then. You're as bad as Noct with feelings sometimes, ya know. Perceptive about others' feelings 99% of the time, but when your own are involved you come up with all these flawed reasonings for why you shouldn't feel that way, and get so caught up in your own head you completely fail to recognise what the other person is feeling." 

"I..." Ignis doesn't quite know what to say to that. Prompto's not wrong in general, but is he truly right in this case, about Noctis? Has Ignis been wrong in assuming Noctis wouldn't be okay with what had happened between them? 

"Iggy... I know you didn't mean to, but you didn't _really_ think about Noct at all in this. You felt embarrassed and maybe ashamed, convinced yourself Noct would be upset to justify those feelings, and reacted accordingly without even considering that Noct might feel differently." 

"...I've really mucked this up, haven't I?" Ignis says, resigned self-loathing seeping out alongside his words. 

"Nah," Prompto says. "He's upset now, yeah, but he still really just wants to talk. So _talk_ to him, and be honest." 

There's a rustle of clothing, and then footsteps coming around the edge of his desk. Ignis braces himself, not sure what Prompto's doing or if he's going to touch him, but after a moment he hears the soft clatter of his phone being set down on the desk, and realise Prompto's picked it up for him. "Thank you," he says softly. 

"No problem, dude," Prompto says easily. He pauses, letting out a sheepish little laugh. "Sorry I barged in here like that to call you an idiot." 

"But not sorry for calling me one?" Ignis asks wryly. 

"Nope!" 

"I suppose you weren't wrong." He smiles. "When did _you_ become so perceptive?" 

"When my good friend stopped being perceptive himself, and my best friend needed me to step up for him," Prompto says, and his tone is light-hearted, but it still sends a spark of guilt through Ignis. 

Sudden resolve firms. He's going to fix this. "Noct is still in his room, I presume?" Ignis asks. 

"Yep. He's asleep right now, though. He, ah, he had a panic attack earlier... Tired him out." 

_Oh, Noct._ Ignis' heart aches as he begins to realise how deeply he'd upset Noctis with his selfish and thoughtless words yesterday. Prompto had been on the mark with saying Ignis had been caught up in his own head—now that he's looking back, he can see that Noctis hadn't been upset when asking to talk, he'd been _anxious_. Ignis _should_ have picked up on that. Aloud, however, he simply says, "I see," letting none of his self-deprecating thoughts out. 

"Don't beat yourself up too much, Iggy," Prompto says softly. "Noct's got a big heart. He'll forgive you." 

"Indeed," Ignis says, and can only hope that Prompto's right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% on Prompto's characterisation in this, but, eh. Might rework it when the main fic is done and I'm giving everything a final edit.
> 
> And speaking of the main fic, I'm ~1900 words into the next chapter finally :)
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos ♥


	5. Chapter 18: Ignis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fifth scene is from Ignis' point of view, and accompanies chapter eighteen. It takes place after his and Noct's fight, during the time Noct is out in the city killing sabertusks and ignoring his phone.
> 
> This was previously written and posted in the comments of chapter eighteen; it has not been modified aside from a couple typos.

Ignis doesn't know how long he sits there after Noctis has left, unmoving on the couch as he replays Noctis' last words over and over in his head.

_I'm not going to be your problem_ any longer _._

It's a weight, heavy and stifling on his chest, wrapped tightly around his lungs, squeezing all the air out of him until he can't breathe. Anxiety is slithering tangibly up his throat, bile burning like acid, and he swallows it back down, determined not to let it win. 

Noctis doesn't mean his words in that way. He _doesn't_. Ignis tells himself that, and wonders if he can make himself believe it. Perhaps if he repeats it to himself enough. 

At some point a soft jingle alerts him to Effy's approaching presence, and he feels the couch dip slightly with her weight as she jumps up beside him. He automatically holds out his hand, waiting until she nudges her head into it, and only then does he feel confident enough to pet her. With his blindness and her deafness, it's a routine that took them awhile to figure out, but it works well for them now, and he's sure she appreciates no longer having her head smacked as he tried to find it with his hand. 

"He won't kill himself," Ignis tells her, "Surely not," but he knows the words sound hollow. It's not been so long since Noctis admitted, in his usual roundabout way, his still-present desire to kill himself, and Ignis has worried for him non-stop since hearing Noctis' soft, ragged, and tear-choked voice say _I wanna sleep forever_. "I can't bear the thought of losing him," he says to Effy quietly. Obviously she's unable to hear him, but it brings him some small measure of comfort to talk to her. He never has before, not able to see the point, and always listens to Noctis talking to her with baffled amusement—though he still finds it endearing nonetheless. 

Now, however, he can see the appeal in it. It's a listening ear—or not, technically, he thinks with a snort—one that he can unburden himself to without worry of judgement or taking care in what he says. In short, it's a form of therapy, and Ignis wonders if Noctis realises that. He's come upon Noctis talking to her about some more serious topics a few times—always making his presence known immediately, not wanting to embarrass him or deter him from talking out things to Effy in the future. 

It's frustrating that Noctis can see the benefit of talking to his cat but not connect that with the benefits of therapy. It's not entirely the same, of course—his cat can't hear, or talk back—but a therapist is a non-judgemental ear as well, and Ignis believes with all his being that if Noct can let his guard down enough to truly _talk_ to someone, he will get better. Not right away, and not easily, but if he will simply put in the _effort_ — 

Effy shakes her head, signalling she's done with the petting, and crawls into his lap once he moves his hand away, curling up to sleep. Ignis takes a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. There's no good sense in getting upset over their earlier argument. Noctis is out somewhere, hopefully using the time to calm down as well, and when he comes back they can try having a discussion. One that is, preferably, more rational and relaxed than the previous discussion. 

He dozes, then, without really meaning to. His duties in caring for Noctis and more or less running the beginnings of the new kingdom frequently leave him exhausted, and he often has little time for sleep. He wakes with a start, sorrow gripping his heart as images of his nightmares disappear. Altissia, ruined in the wake of Leviathan's destruction, and the ring on his finger, burning his eyes from the inside out—and Noct, lying unconscious on the Altar, at the mercy of Ardyn, looking so vulnerable that Ignis could hardly breathe with the force of emotions it triggered in him. He dreams of it frequently, one of the last remnants of the trauma of that day. 

Effy's no longer on his lap, and he pulls his phone from his front left pocket, checking on the time. The hour it reads out startles him; it's been nearly three hours since their argument. Is Noctis back? He clearly has yet to return to his rooms, but that doesn't mean he isn't elsewhere in the Citadel, sulking, or worse— 

No. He has resolved not to think of it. Not for the moment. Not until he has true reason to worry. He brings up his texting app, and sends a message to Noctis. 

Fifteen minutes later, there's still no response. No chagrined apology, no terse "I'm fine," no scathing entreaty to leave him alone. He reminds himself to stay calm and slowly types out another message, a longer one asking him to please simply respond and let Ignis know he is well. Another fifteen minutes goes by, and the silence taunts him, surrounding him and pressing in on him until he's choking on it. 

When a third message goes ignored, Ignis allows the first tendrils of worry to creep up his throat, feeling it tighten as he calls Noctis. It rings, and rings, and after the fifth ring the voicemail kicks in. Ignis doesn't bother leaving one. Noctis is either deliberately ignoring him or is unable to respond to his phone. Ignis sincerely hopes for the former reason. That Noctis is in the Citadel, safe and sound, perhaps letting off steam with Prompto or Gladio, and isn't up to answering his phone yet. 

He desperately needs that to be the reason, because he can't bear to contemplate the alternative. 

He calls Prompto first. "Noct? I thought he was spending the afternoon with you," Prompto says, and Ignis isn't sure whether he ought to feel validated or more worried by the note of concern that creeps into Prompto's tone. 

"Unfortunately, we had somewhat of a minor disagreement earlier," Ignis says. He feels a sliver of guilt for misrepresenting their argument, but he's reluctant to air their troubles to their friends unless it becomes relevant. "He left, rather upset, and is not responding to my calls." 

The sigh that comes through the line is a mix of resigned exasperation and worry. Ignis can quite identify with the feeling. "I'll try calling him, he might answer me. You know him, Iggy, he's probably just being petty while he sulks somewhere in the palace for a few hours." 

"Yes, I hope you're right. Thank you, Prompto, and do let me know if you hear from him." 

"No prob!" 

Gladio doesn't offer any better news. "Haven't seen or heard from the kid," he says. "I've been with Prompto most o' the afternoon. Thought Noct was with you. Why? Somethin' happen?" 

"Merely an argument," Ignis says softly. "I am, perhaps, overreacting. It's likely nothing. But please inform me if you hear from him." 

"Iggy, wait. You don't overreact, especially over nothing. What's going on?" 

Ignis feels his throat tighten even more, and it's an effort to force the next words out. "Really, Gladio, it's nothing." 

"Ignis..." 

"I have to go. Please call me if he contacts you." He disconnects the call without waiting for Gladio's response, and then sets about trying to reach Noctis again. Still no answer to his call, and he's ending it and retrying almost as soon as Noct's voice mail starts. After the fifth time, he finally lowers the phone in defeat, acknowledging that Noctis isn't going to answer. 

He stares down unseeing at his lap, his mind running through all the awful things that might have happened. He loathes it, but he's unable to keep himself from picturing Noct lost somewhere in the Citadel, collapsed unconscious and dying on the floor after swallowing more pills. Or perhaps he's taken a dagger to his arms, or even run himself through with a sword, and is now bleeding out, in pain and crying out for Ignis, wanting to be held one last time. Perhaps he's gone somewhere high and jumped off, screaming as he fell through the air before the ground silenced him forever, the sickening thud as he landed the last sound his body will ever make. 

It's morbid, and dark, and Ignis physically gags on the thoughts, vomit bubbling up in his throat. He surges up from the couch, rushing to the bathroom as his throat burns. In his haste, he misjudges his position in the room slightly, bumping into the doorway, but he makes it in time, fumbling with the toilet and flinging up the closed lid in time to empty his lunch into the bowl. 

Once he's done he flushes away the mess, then leans back against the wall, chest heaving and breathing ragged as he struggles to master his emotions. He can't assume the worst yet, and he most certainly can't break down and cry over something that may not have even happened. 

Something brushes against his arm then, and he startles before he realises that it's Effy. She must have come in while he was expelling his stomach into the toilet, covering up the sound of her bell. He reaches out a trembling hand, and at the familiar nudge he runs his hand over her head and down her back, burying his fingers into her soft fur. "You're a sweet cat," he tells her. The words make his shredded throat ache, but he pays it no mind. "Noct is lucky to have you." 

He gives her attention for some time, her soft purring making it clear how much she's enjoying it. "I'm quite terrified," he admits to her eventually. "If he's killed himself—" His throat catches, and it takes several deep, calming breaths before he's able to continue on. "I've spent ten years already without him. It was most unpleasant." He laughs, the noise somewhat self-deprecating. "Truthfully, I was a mess. Beyond useless. The thought of ending my own life certainly crossed my mind frequently. There might have been... a time when I was close. To an attempt. Only once. As I am still here, I obviously did not go through with it." 

He's never discussed this with anyone before. Never confessed that night out in Alstor Slough, camping at Pullmoor Haven after taking out a pack of daemons that had been harassing a convey of trucks trying to reach Hammerhead. Never told anyone of how he stood there with his dagger held to his wrist, pressing into the soft skin as memories of Noct played through his mind. They'd camped at that very haven a few times, the four of them, usually on hunts, and once when Sania had somehow roped Noct into catching some frogs at the nearby lake for her. 

It had been the second anniversary of Noct's disappearance into the Crystal, and a moment of weakness for Ignis. He'd eventually gathered his wits, dismissed the dagger back into the Armiger, and laid down to sleep. The next day he'd strengthened his resolve to keep going and prepare himself for the day Noctis would return. Though he'd had several more moments of contemplating death after that, he'd never again come so close to carrying it out. But if he loses Noct now, _for good_ — 

Effy trills quietly at him, distracting his attention from his dismal thoughts. She paws at him a few times, and then moves away from him, her collar jangling, the sound distant as she gets further away. A moment later, the sound grows louder as she approaches again, trilling at him once more, and then she leaves again. 

"Very well, Effy," he murmurs, getting to his feet. He takes a moment to rinse his mouth, and then follows the noise of her collar over to her food bowl. A quick feel tells him it's empty, and he refills it for her, worry blossoming again as he wonders how late it is. 

He checks his phone for the time, alarm rising as he realises how late it's getting—late enough for the sun to be setting, and still there's no word from Noctis. He tries calling one last time, and when he gets no answer, he finally gives into his fears and calls Cor. 

* * *

"How long has he been gone?" 

"Hours," Ignis says wearily. He's slumped back down into Noctis' couch, the hold on his emotions tattered and fraying with every minute that passes. Prompto has taken a seat next to him, letting his leg press solidly against Ignis' in an attempt at comfort and reassurance, but it only serves as a reminder that Noct is missing. "We had an argument around lunchtime. He left then." 

"He's not answering calls from any of you?" 

Ignis simply shakes his head in the negative while Gladio speaks from Cor's left. "I tried calling him after Iggy called me, and also sent him a few texts. No answer. Looked around the Citadel some, but I saw no sign of him." 

"We should start with a more thorough search around the palace, then," Cor says. "Is there any particular place he likes to go when he's upset?" 

Ignis doesn't say anything, because truthfully, he doesn't know. He's aware that Noctis roams sometimes, and will text Noctis periodically to check in with him, but he's never asked where exactly Noctis goes. 

"He just wanders," Prompto says. "He told me once he likes to explore and see what new rooms he can find, guess 'cause he never went in a lot of them as a kid." 

"He won't be anywhere near the throne room," Ignis says, his voice catching on the last two words. It still makes his heart ache to recall that day. Noct had sounded so upset and out of it, and his sobs had nearly torn Ignis apart. When he'd flinched away from the washcloth in Ignis' hand, Ignis would swear that he'd felt his heart literally breaking. 

"Is there... particular concern about his mental state? Or is he just angry over your argument?" 

It takes Ignis a moment to gather himself and answer Cor's question. "I fear there may be some concerns," he admits. He needs to choose his words carefully; he doesn't want to go in-depth with details and completely violate Noct's privacy or trust in him, but they need to understand there's a real chance that Noctis has done something to himself, that despite what he has said about not trying again, the thought has still been on his mind. "He has expressed some thoughts, indirectly, that suggest the idea of suicide may not entirely have left his mind." 

The room is silent at first as the other three take in what Ignis has said, and then Gladio swears, the word soft but no less heartfelt for it. "You think he's gone off to try to—to do something stupid, don't you?" 

He hears the rustle of clothes as Prompto stretches his arm across his lap, taking one of Ignis' hands in his own and squeezing it gently before releasing it. Ignis appreciates the sentiment, but it doesn't soothe the fear and worry he's feeling. "He informed me before he left that he would not be my problem any longer." 

"That's... that's bad, yeah, but not necessarily... Maybe he didn't mean he was gonna kill himself, you know?" Prompto says, and Ignis can easily picture the hope he knows is shining from Prompto's eyes. "You said you guys were arguing, maybe he was just trying to make you mad?" 

"I certainly hope so," Ignis says, but he doesn't believe it in the least. 

"We'll search for him," Cor says firmly. "Nothing official yet, we don't want to cause undue alarm, but Prompto, Gladio, and I can each take a section of the Citadel. We'll get Iris involved as well." 

Ignis rises from the couch, stepping towards Cor. "I can search as well—" 

"No. Someone needs to stay here to alert the rest of us in case he returns. It should be you." 

"Stay here? Because I'm blind?" Ignis demands. "I can search as well as the rest of you. Why is it myself that should remain? Why not Prompto?" 

"Yes, because you're blind," Cor says bluntly. "No one doubts your abilities, Ignis, but if Noctis is avoiding you deliberately, you could come across him and never know it." 

Cor is right and Ignis knows it, but he chafes at the order nonetheless. He doesn't want to continue sitting around Noctis' room all night, worrying about him and feeling useless. He feels the need to be out and doing something, to search tirelessly until Noctis is found, and Ignis can reassure himself that he's safe. 

He pulls his phone out once more after the others have gone, but where he'd been too frantic to stop calling Noctis before, now he feels paralysed by the thought of it. He doesn't know if he can handle calling repeatedly and hearing nothing but the ringing, ringing, ringing, echoing in his ear endlessly, taunting him mercilessly with the possibility of Noct's death. 

"Please call," he murmurs to the phone. "Please, Noct." 

He doesn't, and Ignis spends the next hour stuck in a limbo of waiting and not knowing, gripping his phone anxiously, hoping for a call with news from Cor, or Gladio, or Prompto, or Noctis himself. He can't bring himself to call, but nor can he bring himself to do anything else. His mind is still playing gruesome scenes of Noct's death, and he feels on the verge of entirely falling apart. 

When his phone does eventually ring, he nearly drops it, startled by the sudden noise, and he's almost unable to answer it for the way his heart's suddenly caught in his throat, closing around so tight he can hardly get a breath out. 

"Any news?" Cor's voice rumbles over the line, making Ignis' heart sink back down, all the way to his stomach—if he's asking, he's not heard from Noctis. 

"I'm afraid not," he says. He can hear the slight shaking in his voice, and it embarrasses him. He clears his throat. "No news on your end?" 

"We've searched as many areas as we could. He's either found a really good place to hide, or he's not in the palace." 

"I see," is all he can manage to say. He hasn't even considered that Noctis might have left the Citadel. That opens up a whole new world of terrifying possibilities for him to have become injured, or killed, or to try and harm himself in some way. He wonders if the tense knot of anxiety he feels is how Noctis' panic attacks start. 

"We're heading back your way now. We'll figure out where to go from there." Cor hangs up, and Ignis resigns himself to waiting again. 

It's seventeen long minutes before he hears the door open, and he doesn't wait for all of them to make it into the room before he speaks. "I want the Crownsguard to launch a full-scale search." 

"Iggy..." Gladio's heavy footsteps approach the couch, halting in front of him. 

"Don't deny me, Gladio. He's missing, apparently not in the Citadel, and potentially suicidal. I can't just sit around and wait for him to call, assuming he's even still alive to do so." 

There's a sigh, and then the couch sags as Gladio settles next to him, the faint smell of his aftershave wafting over. "Iggy. I'm worried too. We all are. But you know better than anyone the precarious state Insomnia's in—hell, all of Lucis. If word got out the king was missing again..." 

"Then don't mention he's missing," Ignis says. He's aware how desperate he sounds, but he doesn't care—he wants to grab Gladio's arm and shake it and beg them until Cor sends out all of the Crownsguard to find and bring Noct home. 

"You know that won't work," Gladio says. His voice is soft, as if that will lessen the blow of what he's saying. "Even if we could somehow ask the citizens if they've seen him without letting on that he's missing, people talk. The Crownsguard would, and the citizens would speculate, and it wouldn't take long for people to be coming to us, worried and upset." 

"We're meant to wait, then? Hope that he's not injured or dying out there, possibly in need of our assistance, counting on us to find and save him before it's too late, if he's not already—" He can't go on. He's overwhelmed with the images in his mind, with the emotions he's been doing his best to keep at bay for hours now, and if he says one more word they're going to burst out of him, ugly and scary, and he would rather his friends not see that side of him. 

More footsteps, quieter ones that indicate Prompto, and then a gentle hand comes down on his shoulder, resting lightly. "Gladio's right, Iggy. We can't risk panicking the city." 

Ignis shakes his hand off. He doesn't want anyone touching him right now. 

"Noctis isn't dead," Cor says, speaking up for the first time. 

"How do you know?" Prompto asks, his voice moving away from Ignis as he walks down to the other end of the couch. 

"You can still access his Armiger, can you not?" 

There's a brief silence as Gladio and Prompto both immediately attempt to summon up weapons. Ignis doesn't, because he's too afraid to discover that Cor is wrong. Gladio doesn't begin to curse and Prompto doesn't begin to sob, however, so Noct's Armiger must be intact. It's not as relieving as he wishes it to be. 

"We'll still search, Ignis. The same as we did for the Citadel. All night long, if need be." 

Ignis still says nothing, and after an uncomfortable minute the rest of them begin discussing amongst themselves which grids of the city each of them will cover, and whether there are any likely areas Noctis might have gone to. Ignis listens to it, but doesn't contribute to the discussion. There are a few places he can think of that Noctis might go, but he's still afraid to open his mouth. Instead he shall have to text them once they're out searching. 

They leave him to stay behind again. He hadn't expected any different, but he still doesn't like it. Effy rubs against his legs not long after they leave, seeking affection. He pats the couch firmly, until the vibrations attract her attention and she jumps up. He tentatively reaches out until he's got a feel for exactly where she is, and then he picks her up, holding her to him, burying his face into her soft fur. A few tears slip from his unscarred eye, sliding down his cheek wetly, and he draws in a shuddering breath. Effy's warm against him, and he holds her that way until she begins to squirm, wanting down. He lowers her to his lap, and she curls up into a ball, purring quietly when he begins petting her. 

"Please," he whispers to her, although it's really Noct he's speaking to. "Please, not again. I couldn't bear it, Noct. Astrals above, please let me be wrong about your intentions. I don't dare go on living without you." 

A few more tears fall, and he raises a shaking hand to wipe them away. He has to be strong, has to continue holding himself together until Noctis is found, one way or another. And if the worst comes to pass... then he can allow himself the luxury of falling apart. But only then. 

He doesn't sleep for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this brings the series word count up to 200K? Or _really_ close to it. Anyways, if you hadn't read this yet, hope you enjoyed some Ignis angst. Feel free to leave me your thoughts <3


	6. Chapter 20: Ignis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final scene is from Ignis' point of view, and accompanies chapter twenty. It is a few snippets of the aftermath of Noct and Ignis' breakup.

Ignis manages to hold himself together long enough to get to his own rooms, and only once he's safely inside does he allow himself to fall apart.

He doesn't sob, or make any noise. Just sinks down on the edge of the bed as tears begin to slip out from his damaged eye, rolling wetly down his cheek. He starts trembling, and wraps his arms tightly around himself in a poor imitation of a hug as he rocks his upper body back and forth slightly. 

His heart aches so much it's physically painful, an invisible grip squeezing around his chest so tightly it leaves him struggling to breathe, little gasps shuddering out of him, nearly soundless for how fast they are. 

He's still stunned, utterly disbelieving at what just transpired. He has no idea how to process it. Noctis has—they're not—he's alone now. And he has no understanding of how it happened. 

He's almost tempted to go back. To go in there and beg Noctis not to do this to him, only he's not so pathetic as to stoop to that. He's feared losing Noct for months now, but never had he imagined it to be in this manner. And in some twisted way, it almost feels worse. To know that Noct's not _gone_ , he's still alive, he simply doesn't want to be with Ignis anymore. And that hurts more than thinking of Noctis simply becoming overwhelmed enough to take his own life, because at least then he could still believe that Noctis cared for him. Now, he's left wondering. 

He tries to draw in a deep breath, but it's painful, his lungs catching, and he feels like he can't quite get there. Not permanently, Noctis had said, but how can he expect them to ever resume their relationship in the future as if this night hadn't happened? As if he hadn't dropped Ignis like everything between them meant nothing, as if he hadn't confessed to lying and leading Ignis on _yet again_ about how he was doing—and then had the nerve to try and blame that on _him_ , saying that wanting him to be well was too much _pressure_ , as if Ignis should have let Noctis wallow in that mental state forever. 

And Astrals, he feels like the worst sort of fool right now, because how did he not see the truth? Noctis doesn't talk about his feelings. Not unless he's at his breaking point. Not with Ignis, not with Prompto, _certainly_ not with Gladio who's even more emotionally closed off than the rest of them combined. A stranger would be out of the question. Noctis wouldn't open up. Not this quickly. He wouldn't be to the point of improvement that he'd let Ignis believe he'd reached. 

How could he have been so naive? 

Well, it certainly doesn't matter now. Noctis wants nothing to do with him. Whether he is or isn't getting better is no longer any of Ignis' business. If he dissociates, or has panic attacks, or gets lost in time, Ignis no longer has to be there to help him through it. Noctis can pretend or not as he wishes, because Ignis won't be there for him to lie to. 

At that, a sob escapes him, and suddenly the floodgates are open, releasing a torrent of harsh sobs and pained cries as tears soak his face. After a few minutes, he buries his head in his hands, ashamed at the breakdown, even though there is no one around to hear him. 

Time fades into something meaningless as he sits on the bed pouring out all his grief and sorrow. His biggest fear in life has always been losing Noctis. He'd thought it had come to pass once, during that nightmare spent in Gralea, only to eventually be granted mercy by the Astrals. Now it's happening all over again, only this time it isn't some cruel prophetic fate, it's of Noct's own doing. 

Ignis can't bear it. 

By the time he finally stops crying, it isn't because he's done—rather, he's simply too exhausted to keep going. His eye aches, burning hotly, and he feels drained. It's a monumental effort to bend over and pull his shoes off and drag his feet up on the bed. Once he does, he makes no effort to undress further, instead slowly lowering himself to lie on his side, curling into a foetal position. His thoughts have largely scattered, leaving only four words in their wake. 

_Noct. Don't leave me._

A breath shudders out, and he swallows painfully, his throat on fire. 

He doesn't sleep. 

* * *

Prompto makes an appearance in the morning. "Uh, Iggy?" he says, knocking softly on the closed door. "You awake?" 

Ignis hears him, but he has no energy or desire to respond. He's been crying again for the last half hour, tears once more trailing silently down his face. He should have been waking up next to Noctis this morning, gently tracing the features of his face, trying to imagine what thirty-one year old Noctis looked like before giving up and calling to mind a memory of twenty-year old Noctis smiling at him. 

Instead he's in his own bed, broken and alone, cursing his blindness and wishing he could have seen Noctis' face as he spoke last night, wishing he could have seen whether Noctis looked as shattered as Ignis felt. He feels helpless and lost, clueless to grasp why Noctis would have done this so suddenly. 

"Iggy?" Prompto calls again, and his door creaks open slowly, cautious footsteps padding into the room. They change to something more hurried when Prompto seems to catch sight of him, letting out a small noise of worry. "Ignis? What happened?" 

Somehow, he finds the strength to speak. "Please leave," he says, feeling his face burning in humiliation. He doesn't want to be seen like this, and it makes him angry that Prompto has. It feels as if he's had privacy violated. 

"Iggy, man, you're crying, I can't leave. What's wrong?" 

Ignis says nothing, his anger spiking even as grief continues to drown him. Even if he wanted to, he has no words to explain what happened. Noctis has—Noctis has—Noct has _left_ him. He's ended things, broken up with him, dumped him, and the million and one other ways to say their relationship is over. 

Fresh sobs burst out of him, and Prompto's frantic worry is palpable, permeating the space around him as he shifts from foot to foot, clothes rustling noisily and fingertips grazing Ignis' arm as he attempts to touch him and then thinks better of it, yanking his hand away. Ignis is even more humiliated by this display, but he's powerless to stop it— _don't leave me Noct don't leave me don't leave me don't_ —as he gasps and struggles to take in a proper breath through the constricting band of sorrow that's wrapped around his chest. 

"Iggy, I don't—what can I do, how can I help, what's wrong—" 

The anxious babbling grates on Ignis' ears, and he wants Prompto to leave so he can suffocate on his misery alone. "Go away," he rasps out, and the words sting, his throat shredded from all the crying. 

"Ignis, you're scaring me," Prompto says, finally resting his hand tentatively against Ignis' forearm. 

Ignis reacts violently, ripping his arm away as he rolls over, away from Prompto's touch that's well-meaning but burns like the fires of Ifrit himself because it isn't Noct, it will never be Noct again, and Ignis is _alone_. "Go _away_ ," he insists, raising his voice to something that's not quite a yell. He can hear Prompto backing up, possibly tripping over his own feet, but there's no sound of the door closing, and it angers Ignis even further, momentarily overcoming his grief. 

He slams his mouth shut, choking down his next sobs to listen as Prompto comes to a stop. "Ignis—" Prompto starts, and Ignis sits up swiftly, grabbing a pillow from the bed and throwing it in the direction he's confident Prompto is standing, shouting once more for him to go away. He knows he hits his mark when Prompto lets out a startled noise, the sound muffled, and then Ignis hears the pillow plop harmlessly to the ground. 

"Okay, Iggy," Prompto says, and his voice is soft and soothing and still tinged with concern, making all of the fight drain out of Ignis. Footsteps approach the bed again, and the pillow brushes against him as Prompto sets it back at the head of the bed. "I'll go, okay? If you need to talk later, just text me, alright?" 

He doesn't answer, merely collapses back into the bed and curls up again, facing away from Prompto, new tears leaking out. A moment later he hears the door shut, and he's alone. 

* * *

He spends his birthday alone. Prompto is there, as he has been the past week, but he doesn't count. He isn't Noct. 

Noctis was meant to be spending the day with him. Ignis had asked for only that, when Noctis had inquired about a gift. A day lazing about as they pleased, perhaps roaming the surrounding Insomnian neighbourhoods and checking out the new businesses still steadily going up, if the weather wasn't terribly nippy. Noctis had also promised to make dinner for him in the evening, and though he isn't the best cook, Ignis loves it more than the finest meal he's ever had in a restaurant, simply for the fact that _Noct_ made it, entirely for him. 

Those plans are gone now, along with Noctis. 

"If you wanna do anything, just say the word, Iggy," Prompto says, and Ignis swallows. 

"Strangle Noctis, perhaps, to start with," he responds, going for a light, joking tone and failing completely. 

"Ignis... He's hurting over this too, you know." 

"Then he shouldn't have done it," Ignis says flatly, giving up on trying to pretend he doesn't mean what he's saying. "I care nothing for whether Noctis is or isn't hurting. _He_ is the one who ended things. I rather dislike him right now, and if I want to wish him ill-will or think about causing him pain, I shall, because it will pale in comparison to the pain he has caused me." 

Prompto sighs, but doesn't attempt to argue with him. Though Ignis does hear him mutter something about "dramatic." Well. Ignis hardly cares. If he's being dramatic, so be it. Certainly he isn't going around whining about being _pressured_ simply because someone wants the best for him, so he's hardly alone in his drama. 

They both fall quiet again. Prompto taps away at his phone—likely texting Gladio about him—and Ignis allows himself to get lost in his thoughts again. Yesterday he had went to his office, attempting to lose himself in his work so he wouldn't have to think about Noctis. It hadn't worked. Noctis' office was right next door, and though Noctis himself wasn't there, Ignis was still all too aware of him. Traces of his presence were all over—the jacket he'd left draped over Ignis' spare chair, the extra phone charger still plugged in next to Ignis', the jetty's soda can he'd tossed in the trash can next to Ignis' desk, its cloying smell of some indeterminable 'berry' flavour wafting up to him. 

It had been too much. Ignis doesn't want to face it again today. He's spent the last days crying, heartbroken, desperate to rush into Noctis' room and beg him to reconsider. Now he's simply angry, and wants to break something. It doesn't matter to him what he breaks, whether it's Noctis' things or Noctis himself. If he goes to his office today, he isn't sure he won't trash it, and Noctis' next to it. 

"Hey, did you know it's been snowing today?" Prompto says suddenly. 

He did not. Normally it's part of his routine to check the weather app on his phone every day, but he hasn't seen the need to when he's not bothered to leave his room. He's surprised to learn it's snowing. Insomnia doesn't see snow very often. But then, the Starscourged-induced loss of the sun has done strange things to Eos over the past several years, and the weather hasn't been exempt from that. Insomnia may yet get more snow this winter, and even spring. 

And just like that, grief swallows up anger again. He loves the snow. As a small child, it had seemed magical to him, transforming the world into something white and dazzling in a matter of hours. Learning how snow happened as he got older did little to diminish those feelings. And as an adult, he has many fond memories of dragging Noctis out to play in the snow with him, despite Noctis' obvious dislike for it. 

To have snow today, on his birthday, should have felt like a birthday present from the Astrals. Instead it feels like some sort of cruel punishment—perhaps for their defying of the prophecy. Noctis had been meant to die, after all, Ignis is sure of that even if Noctis wasn't. 

Tears start, and Prompto makes a distressed noise, apparently having been watching him. "Iggy, man, you're breaking my heart," he says. "This is like—" he cuts himself off abruptly, but Ignis knows what he meant to say. He'd had a similar reaction after Noctis had disappeared into the Crystal, and Prompto had been there for him then, too, doing his best to take care of him and help him through the worst of the grief, even as he'd been grieving Noctis' loss himself. 

"Apologies," he offers, but he's unable to keep himself from crying, even if he still finds it embarrassing, even if he's cried in front of Prompto a hundred times over. Bearing this pain a second time is simply too much. 

Prompto sighs. "Shove over," he says, and Ignis does, listening as Prompto gets up, pulling his shoes off before climbing in the bed beside him. He pulls Ignis to him, as he had done a hundred times over in Lestallum after Noct's disappearance. And, as Ignis had done a hundred times over, he buries himself into Prompto's chest and lets go. 

* * *

"So... is today an 'I hate Noct' day?" 

Ignis lets out a huff, finding the question ridiculous. He's not in the mood for Prompto's company today. "Is there a day that isn't?" 

Prompto frowns, fabric scratching against fabric as he moves in his chair. "Why did you guys break up, anyway? Noct hasn't said. I thought you guys were okay..." 

"Because he's a child," Ignis says, the words coming out more sharply than he means them to—they're almost a snarl. "Because rather than accept the help and support I've been giving him in getting him to go to therapy, he'd rather lie about improving and whine that he doesn't want to talk in his sessions and complain that I'm 'pressuring' him." 

Prompto is silent for a long minute. "If he's not ready to talk, forcing him into therapy isn't going to do much," he finally says. 

"He is the one that made the initial decision to go," Ignis says, feeling his temper flare. He has no patience to put up with questions and judgement. If this part of Prompto's plan to get him out of bed, it's working, because Ignis is ready to escape back to his office just to get away from him. He'd rather face the constant silent reminders of Noctis than this unnecessary third degree. 

"Because he wanted to, or because he knew you wanted him to and felt guilty?" 

"Does it matter? He needed the help." 

There's another uncomfortable moment of silence. "If you can't see that it matters, maybe you'd benefit from some therapy too," Prompto says. 

At that, Ignis sees red. How dare Prompto come in and snoop into his personal life and then have the nerve to insinuate that the fault is all _his_? "Get out!" and these words _are_ a snarl. He snatches up a pillow, hurling it in Prompto's direction. Prompto must duck, or perhaps Ignis misses, because he doesn't cry out this time. It leaves Ignis unsatisfied, so he grabs a second pillow and tosses that one as well. 

"Iggy, man, what the hell!" Prompto cries, and this time Ignis hears scrambling as Prompto gets up from his chair, moving away. Ignis throws a third one, not thinking about anything other than making Prompto _leave_. "Iggy, quit!" 

"Get out!" Ignis shouts at him as he throws his fourth and final pillow. "How dare you! I am not the one that broke this relationship!" 

Prompto sucks in a few gulps of air. From the sound of it, he's halfway across the room now. "I didn't say that," he says slowly. "I think you _both_ probably contributed. Noct's been going through some really rough shit, and even if you haven't realised it yet, I think it's messed you up a little too. You've been dealing with a lot in trying to help him, and I think it's taking a toll on you, enough that it's made you desperate for him to go to therapy and get better, even if he's clearly not ready. Talking to someone might help you sort all that out, that's all." 

Ignis says nothing to that. He wants to block his ears and refuse to listen, to continue yelling for Prompto to get out, but he can't deny there's a certain amount of sense in the words. There's been too many days when he's come back to his room after helping through Noctis through a rough patch and just sat on his couch and cried, feeling lost and helpless to see Noctis suffering and know that there isn't anything he can truly do to help Noct get better. 

"Noct wanted me to give you something," Prompto says then, his footsteps approaching the bed again. "He bought it a couple of days ago. A late birthday present." He grabs Ignis' hand carefully, gently, and unfurls his fingers, dropping something into his palm. Ignis isn't sure he wants to accept a birthday present from Noctis, but he closes his hand around it nonetheless, letting his fingers work out what it is. 

It takes him only seconds to discover it's a coeurl, a little carved wooden figurine of a coeurl, and his breath catches in his throat at the realisation. He remembers the chocobo figurine Noctis had wanted, the one that had reminded him of his chocobo Merlin, and Ignis knows this coeurl is of the same make. 

Noctis had went to the market again, and had seen the stall, and had remembered their day and how much Ignis loves coeurls, and had bought him this. Despite breaking up with him, despite knowing Ignis might reject or refuse it, he had bought him this coeurl and asked Prompto to deliver it. 

Noct's still thinking about him. He still cares. 

Under Prompto's cautious gaze, Ignis does his best to keep his face non-responsive. "I see," he says simply, as Prompto begins to go around the room and pick up the pillows, depositing them in a heap on top of Ignis' legs. 

"Do you still want me to leave?" Prompto asks him, and Ignis nods. 

When Prompto's gone, he curls his fingers more tightly around the coeurl still in his hand. For a moment he's overcome with an urge to throw it across the room—he can't believe Noctis has the gall to give him a present after breaking up with him and leaving him to be alone on his birthday, as if it all meant nothing to him—but then he loosens his hand, once more tracing the shape of the coeurl, remembering all the times when they'd been children and Noctis had indulged in his obsession with the beasts. All the times he had let Ignis spend hours at the coeurl exhibit in the zoo, the numerous occasions when he'd let Ignis ramble on about all the new facts he'd learned, always listening and remarking on them, always buying him something coeurl-related for his birthday... 

At that remembrance, a sharp cry bursts out of him, and then he's hunching over, unable to breathe for the gasping sobs that are tearing themselves from his throat. Tears run down his face, sorrow gripping tightly at his heart, and he clutches the coeurl figurine in his fist as if it's a lifeline—possibly the last thing he'll ever have of Noct again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeah self-indulgent Ignis angst. Sorry for the potential heartbreak. And thanks for your comments and kudos last scene <3
> 
> In regards to chapter 22: I have one scene left to write. I'll hopefully have it up in the next day or two. I wanted to get this done first.


End file.
